


Scrubbing Bubbles

by TheTartWitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Draco thinks it's too funny, Gen, Harry and Draco don't know each other, Harry works at Zonko's, Inanimate Objects with Personality, Narcissa is too badass to be blackmailed, No Voldemort, Scrubbing Bubbles - Freeform, Severus is grudgingly fond of something, Sunset Bubble is named Trevor just to troll Sev, Trevor loves Severus, ignore canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 02:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10777923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTartWitch/pseuds/TheTartWitch
Summary: Draco deliberated for a moment. A wicked grin spread across his face.“I’ll take one of each,” he said, imagining his godfather having to feed and pet a bubbling pile of cleaning solution to keep it healthy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wyste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyste/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Harry Potter and the Problem of Potions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10588629) by [Wyste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyste/pseuds/Wyste). 



> This is all thanks to Wyste's "Harry Potter and the Problem of Potions", which is just fabulous, truly it is. :)

Honestly, Draco had little to no recollection of  _ how  _ his godfather had gotten him into this shop but he may as well go along with this farce. It would do his godfather good to owe him; he’d gotten far too used to lording things over Draco and his father. Somehow, he’d never been able to pin anything on Narcissa, but she’d never discouraged his blackmailing of her husband and son.

Anyway. Back to the present issue: purchasing some sort of ‘abomination of Potions nature’ for his godfather’s Christmas present. He’d been complaining about them for ages.

“Welcome to Zonko’s! Can I help you find anything in particular?” An abysmally cheerful young man appearing to be Draco’s own age was situated behind the counter. He waved and smiled pleasantly; Draco immediately set himself to despising this person. Draco was above such pleasantries as  _ waving _ .

“I am here to acquire your newest cleaning apparatus,” he said, careful to drone boredly. The young man didn’t appear to be suitably impressed. Draco scowled.

“Ah, the Scrubbing Bubbles?” Asked the young man, whose name-tag read: _Harry Potter, Pleasure to mak-_ , and then there was an unintelligible scribble, as though something had sat on his quill as he wrote. “Those are actually of my own invention, so it’s for the best that I show you to them! Right this way,” he gestured towards a doorway covered by a beaded curtain. Draco eyed it with distaste, not making a move towards the obvious trap.

“They’re part of our Housewives Collection,” the man said, eyes twinkling mischievously. 

Draco snorted mentally, picturing his godfather wearing an apron and wielding one of his family’s house elves’ dusters.

Past the charming curtain was a small, orderly room. On one way there was a rack of what appeared to be cleaning solutions, on another there were cages full of what appeared to be puffskeins made of feathers instead of fur. A sign above them read:  _ Dustskeins, Cousins of the Puffskeins!  _

The wall Potter was directing him to held rows of glass jars and bottles. Inside each was something bubbling and gelatinous, with eyes peering at him from within. There appeared to be four colors to choose from: a sky-ish blue, a green the exact shade of Potter’s eyes, and yellow the color of watery urine, and a pink-orange that resembled an early sunset. He let his lip wrinkle with distaste.

“There are various kinds,” said his guide, slipping dutifully into salesman mode and acquiring the polite, excitable drone of a man who was truly happy with what he was selling. “The blues are the more companionable cleaners, sort of like puppies except for the purring. I’ve actually got one of my own named Kitten; she enjoys exotic dust and some types of slime, which” he waved an arm to the final wall of the small room, packed with vials and beakers of various substances “we actually sell here. The greens are the cleaners you don’t want seen, sort of like house elves. They stay out of sight as much as possible, but are known to climb aboard your shoes when you enter the house to keep them shiny. The yellows are the guards: they’ll patrol the border and detain or chase off any intruders, unless you order them otherwise. We, Zonko’s, receive an automatic alert when they discover anything worrisome and give you a call immediately; however, due to the laws in place at this time, we are also obligated to inform the authorities of any threat to a citizen’s home. The yellows also cheerfully eat any and all pests that may be afflicting your home, such as rodents, insects, or even spiders. They won’t stop until they’ve gotten them all.” He paused for breath, then continued. “The pink-oranges are usually sold to parents who’ve just sent their last child out of the house and need something to take care of. The pinker they are, the happier; the oranger, the sadder. They also follow their designated caretakers around, and can take the form of any animal of your choice while outside your residence so long as they know what the animal looks like. All of our breeds require water weekly at the most to survive, or they’ll fall apart.”

“Which of your...breeds, is safe around Potions ingredients?” Draco inquired, though he was sorely tempted to just buy the pink-orange one and watch Severus’ face when he saw it.

“All of them can handle all but the most corrosive of ingredients, including basilisk venom, fiendfyre, and unicorn tears.” Potter answered promptly.

Draco deliberated for a moment. A wicked grin spread across his face.

“I’ll take one of each,” he said, imagining his godfather having to feed and pet a bubbling pile of cleaning solution to keep it healthy.

Potter grinned back. “Of course, sir. I’ll get that for you right away.”


	2. Severus and the Bubbles: Trevor, Custos, Blue, and Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Alternative title: "In Which Draco Is Entirely Too Pleased")
> 
> You forced my hand. Too many wanted Severus' reaction to the Scrubbing Bubbles and one of you guys commented something about Severus being embarrassed of treating Trevor well, so here it is! X)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this a part of a series, but it fits better as a second chapter. Feel free to suggest stuff from this 'verse if you want to see it, and this will be perpetually marked as complete because each chapter could stand alone. Hope this satisfies your Severus craving for now!

Severus’ armchair was exceptionally comfortable: true to form, it had been a gift from Narcissa last Christmas, and one he treasured. It was Charmed to massage to kinks out of your back muscles, a priceless bit of magic she’d paid quite a bit for.

Draco’s gift was not quite so expensive, though it was nearly as priceless: an abomination of Severus’ sworn art, the Scrubbing Bubbles. Draco had given him one of each type, and his yellow guard, Custos, had already caught three intruders trying to steal from his herb garden, so he supposed that one was useful. The cleaning ones were marginally useful as well; not having to tidy up after oneself left one an awful long time for reading obscure potions texts and exploding things to vent one’s furies.

No, it was the sunset one that troubled him.

Draco had named it ‘Trevor’ without asking, and now the blasted thing wouldn’t respond to anything else. It got between his feet as he walked, and purred unreasonably loudly at night when he was tired and might be giving it scritches (he tried not to think about that too hard), and it dripped water from its bowl on the floor that the blue one tidied delightedly. When he sat in his favorite armchair, it slimed its way up the side and into his lap, purring like a muggle engine.

“Stop that racket,” he said halfheartedly. It wasn’t as though the thing had listened to him before, and at some points seemed to be actively ignoring his wishes. He then realized one of his hands had risen to the thing’s back and was stroking it.

 _...bloody hell_ , he thought exhaustedly, and let it.

There was a knock at the door just then, and a muffled shout from through his wards: “Severus! Let me in, I’ve brought Blue and Green’s treats and Custos is getting antsy!”

He froze.

Merlin forbid Draco ever see him _bonding_ with his newest blobby parasite. He’d never hear the end of it.

“Get down, Trevor,” he snapped, pushing it ineffectively off his lap. It whined unhappily and slithered down to gather among his robes. The pinkish color had become more prominent as he pet it, so he nudged it harshly with his boot a few times, mumbling apologies, until it gathered a nearly painful orange twinge.

He’d managed to gather himself just in time to meet Draco’s eyes as his godson entered the room. “Hello, Severus,” Draco greeted cheerfully. “Been having a good time with Trevor?” He asked, probably attempting to sound innocent. There were far too many eyelashes batted for that to fool Severus. He glanced down at the thing and twitched.

Somehow, the blob of bubbles had managed to roll over in a cat shape and was twitching its legs in the air feebly. Its belly was a bright, content pink.

Severus cursed in his mind. “The house elves must be caring for it,” he explained thoughtlessly, forgetting he was no longer staying in Malfoy Manor and thus, had no available house elves upon which to pin the lie. Draco looked entirely too pleased.

“You _do_ like him!” His godson cackled. “You haven’t even tried dissecting him, Severus, and I know how sorely you were tempted.”

Severus grumbled under his breath and reached for a new book. Trevor purred from atop his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts?
> 
> "Custos" means guardian in latin according to google translate.


End file.
